


C'est Notre Mort

by thebureauisclosed (insibbegerest)



Series: Je respire où tu palpites [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Afterlife, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Canonical Character Death, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 21:04:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3543722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insibbegerest/pseuds/thebureauisclosed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are awakened. No bullets pierced in their chests, no screaming, no blood, only the two of them. They have known each other for years and yet, so much hangs unsaid between them. Luckily, they've got an eternity to change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	C'est Notre Mort

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for all the mistakes, please don't hate me for them.  
> By the way, I've named this series after one of Hugo's poems (Je respire où tu palpites). If you wonder why, well... Here's the beginning:
> 
>  
> 
> _I but breathe, where throbs thy heart.  
>  What the use (I prithee say)  
> To remain, if thou depart?  
> Live, if thou wilt go away?  
> Why live as the shadow lone  
> Of my angel — ta'en to flight!  
> Why 'neath skies that darkly frown  
> Be no more than dismal night?  
> __

Has he reached heaven, or has he not? Who knows if heaven exists outside of hopes to which the wretched cling, having the need to see the hand of God behind all that is wrong? Because if all wrong doing was not His will, why should they have to endure it? Surely it must all be a test He is putting them through.

To Grantaire, the principle of faith held no appeal. Faith, that was how the naive renamed ignorance. Faith represented the middle course, the grey area between two extremes, certainty and chaos. You were required to adhere to notions you could neither prove to be nor deny. To believe meant to grope in the dark and pin your hopes on trickery people have created to forget the pain in their hearts, the hunger in their stomachs and the emptiness in their pockets.

In Grantaire’s short lifetime, he had believed solely in Enjolras. When Enjolras was enthusing over revolution and bright tomorrows, Grantaire knew tomorrow would bring no more light than an unlit torch. He was listening to Enjolras’ words, realising that their leader would not survive, that none of them would. A miracle was the only thing that could avert their deaths.

Yes, Grantaire knew of the dangers they would face at the barricades, yet he failed to fully comprehend them. All that he had encountered in the streets of Paris were poverty, filth and malevolence. He had spent countless nights in bars, which taught him a lot about the human nature. Better than anyone, he was familiar with the depravity of their world and he seldom caught a glance of goodness in it, but even so, he could not imagine what monster would be capable of raising its gun toward Enjolras and firing. Who could be so presumptuous as to think they could extinguish the light of the sun? What man would be capable, _willing_ even, to silence those lips that spoke of freedom and justice, each word a beautiful song, each sentece a work of art? How could someone cast their eyes on this angel dressed in scarlett and wish him harm? Had God existed, he would not allow that someone like Enjolras went through any suffering, would he? Grantaire would do anything to shield Enjolras from evil, would take all of his pain on himself if only he could, for Grantaire believed in Enjolras from the core of his heart.

Heart, what a curious thing, people talked about it all the time and yet knew nothing about it. Sometimes they claimed it was worn on one’s sleeve, sometimes in one’s mouth, then they told you you had none at all. Sometimes you had a gold heart, sometimes a red one. One moment you had it in the right place, then on the left. People and their ramblings! You’d think they had no heads on their necks considering the kind of nonsense they could go on about, but just how cursed would they be to (according to their own words) have no heart and no head at the same time?

Grantaire was no medical student, but to his best knowledge, a heart rarely belonged to the person whose chest it was in. All of Grantaire’s heart beats, for example, belonged to Enjolras, just as every single inhale of his, every step, every memory did. He loved Enjolras with every fibre of his being; he had voluntarily died by his side, after all. Had he not woken up from his drunken stupor, had he been miles away from the barricades, still he would have died as soon as the bullet flew threw Enjolras’ chest. Grantaire would turn into an empty shell, broken by soul-wrenching grief. To seperate Hephaestion from his Alexander was as unthinkable as seperating clouds from the skies and shores from the seas.

Or has God managed to do the unthinkable? Has he sent Grantaire some place where the sound of Enjolras’ voice would not reach his ears? Perhaps he has descended to hell, it would make sense. He did not deserve to share paradise with Enjolras who had been a heavenly being long before dying.

Even the guards, obliged to end students' lives with well aimed shots, were reluctant to kill Enjolras. They didn't know him nearly as well as Grantaire did, to them, Enjolras was supposed to be yet another corpse they would have to step over, but even they were so mesmerised by Enjolras they hesitated to carry out the task assigned to them. An ordinary person would not be able to raise sympathy in his enemies and blind faith in his fellows, Grantaire thought.

There was nothing but thick grey fog within Grantaire’s view. He would not dare assume where and why destiny has brought him this time. The last thing he could remember was Enjolras’ hand in his and the beautiful smile he gave Grantaire. Grantaire closed his eyes. For the first time since his awakening he felt something other than bemusedness. The memory of Enjolras stirred up every emotion he was capable of feeling. His pulse and his breathing quickened, his fingers lightly shaking. Each part of his body was burning with a fire that caused pain and delight alike.

Grantaire felt someone touch his shoulder. The fright made him turn around; could it be he was not alone here?

“Enjolras,” he breathed out. It seemed world would not be so cruel as to rob him of the meaning of his life and death, after all.

Enjolras stood before him, proud and upright, golden hair framing his face like a halo and lips curled into a smile; the same soft smile Grantaire was looking at during his final moments.

Grantaire swallowed. The mere thought of Enjolras made his brain cease working properly and still it was nothing compared to what he felt when Enjolras’ bright eyes were fixed on him without any disdain, as though he was more than a repulsive drunkard.

“Grantaire,” he said. Grantaire blinked. He heard no trace of negative emotions in Enjolras’ voice. How unusual for Grantaire, to have Enjolras’ full attention for reasons other than having upset him.

Enjolras reached out. First, Grantaire stared at Enjolras’ hand with disbelief, his gaze flitting from Enjolras’ face back to the hand. Eventually, he took the offered hand, although not without some hesitation. Was he reliving the moment of his death? Some say your entire life flickers before your eyes when you are taking your last breath. His entire life was Enjolras; that might explain why he could see him now.

Enjolras’ expression grew sombre. What was happening, what did Grantaire do wrong?

“You didn’t have to die,” Enjolras spoke quietly, looking down at their joined hands.

Grantaire squeezed his hand lightly. „That wasn't an option. What kind of life I would have led, pray tell, with images of my friends falling, of you falling, constantly on my mind? What would be left of me? A pitiful creature, very pitiful, considering what a joke my existence was even during those times I lacked nothing, be it friendship or wine. You would have become a name, a whisper travelling from ear to ear, until one day, your dear Parisians would forget you completely. You would have become a shadow and I the shadow of your shadow, cursed to stay alone forever, alive and dead at once. Besides, it is not like I will be missed, and as you have stated many times, I am not good at anything anyway.“

„I did not understand you, that was why I couldn't keep from scolding you when the opportunity arose. You were a living contradiction, a paradox I couldn't figure out.”

„Paradox, you say? Allow me to disagree, there is nothing remotely paradoxical about this soul in front of you. I reckon I am the least complex man you have ever had the displeasure to meet. When you look at me, what you see should be no different from what a stargazer sees while examining the night sky. _Over there,_ says the stargazer pointing at the silver sparkles, _that is Cassiopeia, named after the vain queen. Her neighbour is Perseus himself, looking down at us with his star-shaped eyes._ Like the night reveals its constellations, this hideous face reveals all my shallow thoughts and desires. I am no fabulist, nor am I a mysterious man. None of the words on my tongue have ever tasted of sham. So where is this contradiction you speak of?”

Enjolras heaved a sigh, “You followed us everywhere, yet you didn’t share our beliefs. You disagreed with everything I said, but you didn’t leave, although you were incapable of keeping your mouth shut.”

“It was physically impossible for me to keep it shut,” said Grantaire. “This might surprise you, but I’ve always loved the people of Paris, except my love and yours had little in common. You desired to turn a weed into a rose, to remove the injustice that had twined itself around the city in the same way ivy twines around a tree trunk. You wanted to live in a wonderful world that would deserve you, which can be understood. I, a simple layabout, was unworthy of a better place, that is perhaps why my wishes differed from yours so greatly. I admired your ideals, but I couldn’t imagine them becoming reality. You saw our motherland as it could be, I saw it as it was, sombre and polluted. I accepted the imperfections of the human nature because I knew getting rid of them was unfeasible. Mortal everymen, such as myself, can’t achieve the same level of selflesness and perfection as you, my dear leader. To you, revolution stood for a bright future, to me it was a deadly weapon that would deprive me of everything that mattered to me.”

“Grantaire... Stop.”

Grantaire smiled, “See, at first I believed you to be an illusion created by my dying mind, nevertheless, it has to be you. The moment I begin rambling, you interrupt me. _Silence, Grantaire, do not  disturb our meetings with your cynicism, Grantaire.”_

“I won’t let you spread lies. I am not without flaws, I’ve made mistakes and shown cruelty. I have killed, although I did it out of necessity and took no pleasure in it. And I was as mortal and vulnerable as you or any of our friends. That you must have noticed.”

“Your faults were also your assets, in a way. Even when your words or deeds were harmful, your intentions were pure.”

“Grantaire,” said Enjolras tiredly, “don’t make me into a saint. You claim that I idealise my homeland, yet you are no better, seeking perfection where none can be found.”

Grantaire was gazing at him tenderly and adoringly, as ever. His voice, on other occasions coarse and roughened by alcohol, sounded remarkably gentle while speaking to Enjolras. “I am not making you into a saint. You have to agree you are a better man than I am, therefore it makes sense that I look up to you.”

„I am not a better man,“ protested Enjolras, „people are equal.“

Grantaire's eyes lightened up. He could not help it, when an opportunity to indulge in an argument presented itself to him, well, how could he resist? „You don't seriously think a cynic like me could hold a candle to you.“

„Don't pretend you know what I do or do not think,“ said Enjolras, voice coloured with mild amusement. „Yes, you are my equal. Or should you like to doubt my word and call me a liar?“

„I would not dare.“

„See.“ Enjolras paused. „You never believed in the republic. And yet you chose to die by my side and exclaim that you were one of us.“

A shade of doubt crossed Grantaire's face. „Did I offend you?“ he asked hesitantly. „You allowed me to stay, so I assumed my presence didn't bother you. On the contrary, you looked pleased when I was declaring my allegiance to the cause. I... would hate to see you die alone. I know, my company isn't worth much, but I hoped...“

„No, you misunderstood. How could you have possibly offended me by rushing towards gun barrels in a battle that was not yours to fight, a battle for an ideal you ridiculed? And you did it all for one man. For... me.“ He half-whispered those last two words, as if insecure.

Grantaire diverted his gaze. Most topics he could speechify about without taking a break, but to discuss his feelings for Enjolras and reveal how much he would do for him? Fear of Enjolras' scorn silenced him effectively.

Upon noticing Grantaire's unwillingness to speak, Enjolras continued, „I should apologise to you.“

Grantaire stared at Enjolras as though the man had just asked for his hand in marriage. “Why would you apologise? There is no need. Actually, I’d expect you to demand an apology from me, I upset you day after day. When your words were serious, I turned them into silly jests. I caused you trouble whenever possible. You must have hated me.”

“No,” Enjolras shook his head. “I should like to be honest with you. It would be a lie to say I never felt the urge to throw you out of the café or punch you in the face, but that had nothing to do with hatred. At times you could be remarkably bothersome, you do realise that, don’t you? You attended our meetings in order to make fool of me, to mock me with your vicious remarks.”

“It was never my intention to make a fool out of you and even if it was, I wouldn’t have succeeded. I attended the meetings for friends, not for the revolution.” _And for you._

“And that was exactly what I couldn’t comprehend. I took you for a man who cared about no one and nothing bar wine. I clung to my ideals and I still do, however now I see they were blinding me, in some respects. I don’t regret the things I’ve done, I would not change. I still remain convinced your pathetic objections were unnecessary and you could have kept your complaints to yourself, but I have come to realise that in spite of your shortcomings you are a good person and I have wronged you countless times. That is why I am asking you for your forgiveness.”

Grantaire returned to doubting whether he wasn’t dreaming because in all the years he has known Enjolras, the leader has never treated him with such respect. “There is nothing you should be apologising for,” he said eventually, “but if it is what you wish, I grant you my forgiveness. I would forgive you anything.”

“No,” Enjolras said sharply, “I don’t ever want to hear you say such things. I don’t want you to accept my apology because you see it as your duty, I want you to understand I am trying to make amends for my mistakes. Don’t pretend that I have never hurt you with my thoughtlessness, that I have done you no wrong.”

“I would willingly let your words tear my heart in two every day, if only it meant I would be blessed with the opportunity to listen to your divine voice,” said Grantaire.

Enjolras fell quiet. Something in his face altered, his delicate features revealing a variety of emotions, as though he had only noticed just how enormous was his influence over the man standing before him. You shouldn’t be able to break someone in a split second without losing their affection, you shouldn’t have that kind of power over anyone, Enjolras thought. He was looking into Grantaire’s eyes, only finding unquestioning devotion in them.

“I should like to make you an offer,” said Enjolras after collecting himself, “I need your full attention.”

“I am all ears.”

“I will try my best to treat you with the respect you deserve and refrain from judging you too harshly, but I ask two things in return. First, try to cut down on questioning me at all times and denigrating my opinions with your pessimism. And my other request, the important one...” Enjolras bit his lip, “as you’ve likely noticed, I seek to get to know you better, to see who you truly are and pay attention to the good qualities of yours that I used to ignore. All I want from you is to do the same.”

Grantaire wrinkled his brow in confusion. “To do what, get to know you? I dare say I know you well.”

“We will see.” Something akin to insecurity was mirroring in his eyes. “Tell me, when you look at me, what do you see?”

“What sort of a question is this?” Grantaire frowned in puzzlement.

“Stop making faces and answer me.”

“What if I refuse? In accordance with your principles you cannot force me to do anything. And if I don’t wish to comply with one of your requests, I don’t have to, provided we are equals.”

An exasperated grimace emerged on Enjolras’ face, the same one he had given Grantaire too many times. For Grantaire, it was a sight so familiar he had to fight the smile that was threatening to blossom across his face. However, he could not chase away the sudden rush of overwhelming tenderness that spread heat throughout his body. Finally, his self-restrained was crushed by the intense emotion and his face lighted up like a lantern in darkness. Enjolras had never seen him like this before. Although women had avoided him for his looks, in that moment, Enjolras couldn’t find a trace of ugliness in him. Grantaire’s dark blue eyes shone with fondness and joy. Enjolras felt something shift inside of him. He didn’t need Grantaire to answer the question anymore, he could read it in his eyes.

Enjolras took a deep breath. “Grantaire, you...” He went silent mid-sentence, reconsidering if he should continue.

Grantaire tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. „What's this? Is the end of the world coming, is Zeus prepared to wipe the mankind out with a horrific storm as to provide Charon with endless entertainment, is Enlil about to drown all that breathes and moves as he once did to the Babylonians? It certainly seems so, given that you, the king of orators, fumble for the right words. Oh, wait, my tongue got ahead of my brain again, I accidentally called you a king, full aware of how a single mention of monarchy turns you into an avenging angel. Forgive me my imprudence and please, say whatever you wanted to. Just in case, I remind you you were probably about to ask me one of your cruel questions. It is simple to recognise them, really, most of them start with my name and an angry look from you.”

„Grantaire,“ Enjolras tried again. „Do you think... Would you say...“ A frustrated pause followed. Enjolras wasn't used to losing his articulacy, even though he wouldn't go so far as to call it the end of all things. Political and social discussions he could hold effortlessly, but personal matters? Those were worse. „Are you in love with me?“ he blurted out.

Shock nailed Grantaire’s feet to the ground, he stood there petrified like Lot’s wife, his mouth agape. Complete silence descended upon them, you would hear flowers bloom and butterflies flutter their wings.

Enjolras was getting afraid that Grantaire actually had turned to stone. Then, the artist drew in a shaky breath and let out a nervous laugh. “You’ve always loathed waisting time,” he said, “so why are you wasting it now by giving me questions to which you surely know the answer?” Does moon brighten the night sky, did Orpheus love Eurydice and did Patroclus love Achilles? The answer to each of those questions was so apparent one might consider them rhetorical.

“We have never been close friends, I’ve never confided in you, all we have ever done together was bicker like a couple of fools,” said Enjolras, “which is why I asked you what you saw in me. To you, I am but a symbol, you idealise me. Your vivid imagination has created a twisted picture of me, one that is too pure and flawless. What you truly admire is not me, only a part of me, some sort of a phantom gifted with the virtues you lack in yourself.”

“Humankind is a curious species. We like to believe we are driven by logic, but what really controls us are emotions, tens of various feelings connected into a single sensation that spreads through us in a given moment and temporarily turns us into someone else. The human nature contains more mysteries than anything else and our deeds often defy the common sense because feelings are as unpredictable as the weather. Sometimes you are empty like a drunkard’s bottle after midnight, at other times, your brain is bursting with thoughts and feelings, threatening to explode any minute. During such moments, you can’t tell which mood is prevalent, you can’t tell them apart. Some feelings, though, you would identify even in a delirium or on your deathbed, which is why I am absolutely certain of my admiration for you. Only on rare occasions you get to meet a one-faced person, you too have two faces, although one of them remains hidden most of the time. You are a child of the revolution, its most beloved son, a noble god of justice who awakens fear, respect and love alike in everyone he sets his blazing eyes upon. A general, who shouts orders in the heat of the battle, knows no hesitation and illuminates the whole battlefield, making it look like holy ground instead of a street where young students are dying, their blood soaking into the soil below them. All of this I have seen, I’ve been there, you know,” Grantaire smirked. “But if you think that I have never caught a glimpse of your other face, of the person who listened to his friends talking about nonsense with a soft smile on his face, who feared for their lives and grieved over every drop of blood that was spilled... but who also was too concentrated on his one task and sometimes let his rage get the better of him... then you are mistaken. You underestimate me, Enjolras. You might have not paid me attention, but that doesn’t mean the same can be said about me. Naturally, I am not familiar with _all_ of your traits and attributes, yet I have uncovered enough of them to know that you are the most extraordinary man I’ve met. I am a chatterbox, anyone who knows me would confirm that, I talk even when I shouldn’t. Especially when I shouldn’t. I answer questions no one asked me, nor would they even want to ask and what starts as one sentence escalates into an hour long monologue that would put an insomniac to sleep. Frankly, it so happens that my mouth keeps going without me being fully aware of it and I reveal things I intended to keep to myself. And that is exactly what I’m about to do now, I will give you the answer you don’t need to hear. I was afraid to say it outloud because I could imagine the disgust on your face, but why should I keep it a secret now that you have surely understood,” Grantaire was talking so quickly it was hard to keep up with him, he had to pause to take a breath.

“So...” Suddenly, Grantaire’s eloquence left him, as did his courage. His voice faded into whisper and the beating of his heart was getting louder and more intense. He dropped his eyes to the ground in a vain attempt to hide some of the naked vulnerability radiating from him. However, Enjolras wouldn’t let him drown in fright and shame. He brought his palm to the side of Grantaire’s face and slowly lifted his chin so that their eyes would meet. Grantaire looked so unsure and lost it made Enjolras’ heart sink. _Why,_ Enjolras thought, _why do people yearn for love if it leaves them so exposed and powerless? If I lashed out at him now, as I had in the past, how severe a damage could I cause? He trusts me. He trust me so much he is putting a loaded gun into my hands, knowing I could point it at him and pull the trigger anytime._

His hand still pressed to Grantaire’s cheek, Enjolras felt him shudder and lean into the light touch.

“There was something you wanted to say,” Enjolras reminded him.

“I always have something to say, even when I don’t, I am that kind of man. There is so much of what I’d like to share with the world that I seldom manage to actually get to the point in time. It is a curse that has been haunting me since I learnt to talk and I doubt it will wear off anytime soon. What a pity.”

Enjolras didn’t utter a sound, but his eyes were urging Grantaire to continue.

Grantaire laughed, clearly uneasy with the conversation, “You actually want me to talk? Today is indeed full of surprises. If I were a poet, like Jehan, or a philosopher, like Rousseau, I would pick up a pen and paper to describe this exceptional day, only using long archaic words no one would understand.” He was aiming for nonchalance, and failing miserably. His traitorous voice was trembling as if he was terrified of Enjolras.

“I only...” Grantaire stopped, mentally bracing himself. “Enjolras, I...” One more moment of silence. Fortunately, Enjolras could be patient when the situation required it.

“I love you,” said Grantaire quietly, “more than you can imagine. I died for you and I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

Enjolras felt like the world stopped moving around him. Grantaire didn't say anything Enjolras hadn't already read from his eyes and actions, but Enjolras knew the power of spoken word as well as the difference between hints and a genuine confession.

At that moment, it was impossible for Enjolras to see the lazy cynic who mocked everything and everyone and revelled in driving him to madness. Instead, Enjolras was looking at a man who hated himself, claimed to be selfish despite having sacrificed his life for another, hid uncertainty behind sarcasm and learnt to drown his pain in alocohol. And now, for the first time, he took off all his masks and let Enjolras examine his bare soul, waiting for his verdict.

Enjolras leant forward, close enough to hear Grantaire breathe and take in every little detail on his face, from the thin scar above his right eye to the wrinkles around his mouth.

Enjolras pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Grantaire closed his eyes, his pulse quickening under Enjolras' fingers. Then, Enjolras pulled away again, only his hand remained rested against the other man's cheek.

“Graintaire? Our place is elsewhere, surely you too have the feeling we shouldn’t linger here any longer. Every soul has its rightful place, ours is at our friends’ side. I suggest we go find them. Everything starts from nothing; every life and every truth has its set starting point. Perhaps we were fated to meet her today so that we could begin a new journey together. Will you walk with me towards our future?”

“If you want me to...”

Enjolras nodded, reaching for Grantaire’s hand. “May I?”

Grantaire smiled and took Enjolras’ hands, wanting never to let go.


End file.
